


I May Be Burning But Cannot Scream

by Copperonthetongue



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Cannon compliant, Cersei’s A+ decision making, Dany is fresh out of mercy and fucks to give, Families of Choice, Fire and Blood, Friendship, Grief, Hurt No Comfort, Loss, Missandei - Freeform, Other, POV Daenerys, Revenge, Season 8, Season 8:E4, The Bells, The reason antagonizing a dragon is a bad idea, dracarys, emotional devastation, post episode 4, spoilers ahead like whoa., woke the dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 06:15:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18867406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copperonthetongue/pseuds/Copperonthetongue
Summary: As she watches Missandei’s body fall from the city wall Dany feels something crack inside her soul.





	I May Be Burning But Cannot Scream

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to explore the period of time between the end of episode 4 and beginning of episode 5 and take a look how Daenerys ended up the broken woman we saw in the map room, so here we are, a glimpse into the mind of the woman who will become the one thing she never wanted to be. Here’s hoping I don’t make a hash of it, as always comments are love and feed the beast.

As she watches Missandei’s body fall from the city wall Dany feels something crack inside her soul, and for long moments she can’t bring herself to look away from the small, crumpled form that now lay broken and empty in the dust before the city gate.

 

Missandei is dead. 

 

Her dearest friend is dead and that is her body laying there in the dirt like a doll cast aside by a careless handed child. Missandei will never hold her again, or hum quietly while braiding her hair, she will never tell Dany terrible jokes again; never smile or laugh or tease Gray Worm until his ears go red. Missandei is dead, and Daenerys cannot breathe. 

 

It feels absurd just to think it, but it is true because Dany can see her wide, empty dark eyes staring back at her from her severed head where it lays in the dust and she can’t help but think that there is an accusation there. 

 

If she had put an end to Cersei Lannister when she’d wanted to, instead of listening to Tyrion Missandei would be alive now. She would be by Dany’s side and not laying there in the dirt, her last word burning like dragonfire in Dany’s soul. If Dany had not listened to Tyrion, she would not be alone. 

 

She desperately wants to start screaming, and the visceral power of the urge is breathtaking. She wants to howl out her agony for all the world to hear, and yet she also wants to tear Cersei Lannister apart with her bare hands and rend her flesh with her teeth, she wants to burn her alive until her screams fill the air like the songs Missandei will never sing again and finally wipe that smug, cruel smirk off her evil fucking face forever. She wants to destroy everything the vile woman had ever loved and treasured and make her watch it crumble to ash. Beneath her fury Dany can feel the scream building in her throat, welling up inside her and scalding her throat in a way that makes her wonder if she couldn’t breathe fire herself and while letting it break free would be sweeter than summer wine Dany knows that she cannot allow it to happen.

It takes every last fiber of her willpower to do so, but she clenches her jaw tight to keep it locked inside her, does it hard enough that she can hear her jaw bone creaking under the pressure, she ruthlessly smothers the sound before it can leave her lips even though she has to bite her own tongue until it bleeds to do so, the coppery tang of her own blood filling her mouth. 

It tastes like vengeance. 

There is nothing that Dany wants more in all the world than to run forward and gather Missandei in her arms again, she aches in her bones to hold her as she had done Jorah after he fell, after he’d given his own life defending her as he had always sworn he would. Dany had wept over his corpse for hours alone in the snow, sheltered from the winter chill and from the prying eyes of others by the vast leathery canopy of Drogon’s black and scarlet wings, her dragon guarding her jealously while she grieved. 

 

This time she does not have that option. 

 

Instead Dany remains frozen in place, heart aching and throat burning with the tears she dares not shed because she’d learned long ago that it doesn’t matter what her heart wants, she is a Queen, she is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons and she cannot let Cersei Lannister see her break. Daenerys will cut out her own tongue before she allows that spiteful, hateful, old bitch the satisfaction of seeing her tears or her grief. 

 

Lions are not the only creatures with pride, Dragons have more than their fair share as well and Daenerys vows to herself and to the woman she’d called friend that Cersei will learn that to her cost if it is the last thing she ever does. 

Somehow Dany manages to rule her face until she can turn around, but her grip on her emotions is fragile beyond bearing, and it feels like the mask she wears will shatter at any moment, her strength is nearly at its end. She hurts, she hurts so terribly that she thinks for a breathless moment that perhaps she might die of it and the sad truth is that Daenerys cannot say for certain that she would not welcome oblivion, but not yet, no...not yet, not until she deals with Cersei. 

Dany knows that her grief will drown her if she lets it, she can feel it in her bones and so she chooses fury instead, and lets rage bathe her in it’s all too familiar glow. It is all she has now, and hate is easier by far to bear than heartache. 

 

As Dany makes her way back to Drogon, she keeps her eyes focused on his black hide and burning red gaze, not daring to look away even for a moment. She puts one foot in front of the other and pushes forward but Dany can feel the eyes of the Unsullied fixed on her like a lodestone to true north and she finds herself wondering what they see, what they make of their Queen now that her power is so diminished. Cersei has taken Dany’s dearest friend from her and for all her strength, and as far as she has come from the girl she’d once-been Daenerys could not keep her safe, she hadn’t been able to save her, Missandei....who Daenerys loved dearest in all the world.

 

A cold dread is seeping into Dany’s bones and she cannot help but wonder how long it will be before her Unsullied abandon her as well, for when they go the Dothraki will follow swiftly behind them. Dothraki respect only power, strength and ferocity and Dany has brought them halfway across the world but so far all she has to show for it are the paltry remains of what had once been the mightiest army ever assembled, and one lonely dragon... because thanks to Cersei and Euron Greyjoy, Drogon is now the last of his kind, just as surely as Dany herself. 

A defeated Khal can never command the Horde. 

It’s only when she at last reaches Drogon that her self control begins to truly unravel; Dany mounts him on instinct, her hands and feet clumsily finding the right hand and footholds by memory alone because her eyes are too blinded by tears to see. Blessedly, Drogon senses her need to leave, he can feel her overwhelming desire to be away from this place and everyone in it and moments later, almost before she can get a secure grip on his spines they are in the air and then, blessedly, all Dany can hear is the thunder of his wings

 

She guides Drogon upwards, high above the cloud line and once they are gliding comfortably, away from any eyes and ears, away from anyone that might whisper of her weakness Dany at last allows herself to grieve. It feels like a dam breaking inside her as she lets go of her control. 

The long smothered screams break free from Dany’s body at last and for what seems like eternity she cannot seem to stop. She screams until her throat feels shredded as if it must be bleeding, but still she can’t seem to stop it, Daenerys howls her pain into the uncaring winter wind until she can wail no more and then she weeps until her head aches as terribly as her heart and soul. It takes a long time, but when her agony and fury is spent at last she presses her face against the burning heat of Drogon’s leathery neck and simply holds on, silent tears trickling down her wind raw cheeks and dripping down onto her dragon’s dark scales. 

Drogon at least will never judge her, he will never think less of his mother for giving voice to her pain.

 

He is all Dany has left, now. 

 

Everyone else is gone, all of those who’d been with her since her long journey began are lost forever, living now only in the tomb of her mind and held always in the graveyard that is all that remains of her heart.

Jorah, who had loved her with all his heart and soul with a selfless abandon that Dany knows she will never see again , not even if she lives a thousand years. Ser Barristan, who had come halfway across the world to find her and to beg her forgiveness and who had given her the most priceless gift of all. Her family. People who Daenerys would never have the chance to meet but who now, though Ser Barristan’s memories of them, she now felt she truly knew. 

 

Drogo, her sun and stars who had promised her a kingdom and who her mercy had destroyed. Poor murdered Irri who had lost her life because Dany hadn't been able see the treachery of those around her. 

 

Worst of all was the loss of her children, Rhaego whom she had loved with all her heart but had never gotten to meet, her poor doomed Viserion who had flown without hesitation into danger, purely because she’d asked it of him and gentle natured Rhaegal, Dany had watched them tumble from the sky with her own eyes, each death had taken a piece of her with it: Until there was nothing left of Daenerys but pain.

 

So many of those she’d loved and trusted are now lost to her forever, of them all only Drogon remains. He is and always has been her dearest child, and while Dany knows that a mother is not supposed to have a favorite the truth is that Drogon had been her darling from the moment he opened his tiny red eyes. Drogon was always hers, the other half of her soul and in all fairness Dany is his as well. He is fierce and full of fury and hunger, fire and blood given flesh and form and like calls to like.

Eventually, exhausted by her grief Dany sleeps, waking only after Drogon has landed them on the cliff face at Dragonstone, the dragon turning his massive head to nudge her gently with the very tip of his nose, blowing his hot breath in her face to rouse her. When Dany comes around she is honestly rather surprised that she didn’t fall to her death, then again perhaps she shouldn’t be. Drogon would never let her fall if he could stop it, and for all his great size, he is also capable of exquisite delicacy.

Daenerys isn’t entirely sure how long they were aloft, but she finds that she doesn’t care regardless. She will take what time she needs, and the others will wait at her pleasure or feel her wrath because she is now at the end of her patience. Drogon lowers her carefully to the ground, and when she steps down she sways unsteadily on her feet . In concern he turns his head around to nose at her again, blowing hot breath in her face and putting his eye down to her own to study her more closely. Daenerys can see that he is worried for her, there is such concern in his burning scarlet eye that he almost seems human. He loves her, as she loves him and Dany knows in her bones that there is nothing that Drogon would not do for her if she asked it of him. 

Her dragon would burn the world to ash and dust if it would please her, he would die to protect her without hesitation and he will never abandon her, never betray her. They are the last dragons, she and Drogon and they belong together, come what may. Dany allows herself the brief luxury of stroking the delicate scales around Drogon’s eye, where the skin is soft and thin . a place she knows is sensitive beyond measure and a ghostly smile finds its way to her face as his eyes go half lidded in contented pleasure and a rattling growl rumbles it’s way free of his massive body. The vibration so intense she can feel it in her very bones.

 

When she eventually leaves him, Dany can feel his eyes worriedly following her retreat and she knows that he will more than likely settle himself as close to her as he can manage, probably pressing himself against the outer wall of the tower she had claimed for her quarters upon her arrival. She also knows that if there was space he would likely have insisted on sleeping with her as he had when he was still a hatchling. Dany wishes that he could as well, truth be told, because she has missed it terribly. All three of her children had shared her bed after Qarth, because Dany had been too terrified to let them out of her sight for months. 

 

Eventually Rhaegal and Viserion had made clear that they preferred their own nest, but that was likely because Drogon had not been inclined to share her and not their own genuine desire. Drogon however had shared Dany’s bed until he had outgrown it, breaking it beneath his great weight and even then instead of forcing him out Dany had laid her bedding on the ground so that she would not be parted from him, a habit she had maintained until he outgrew being indoors entirely and could no longer fit through window or doorframe. 

 

When she rebuilds the Red Keep, Dany will see to it that her quarters are large enough that Drogon can be with her day and night if it pleases him. She almost pities whatever assassin that would be fool enough to dare come for her while Drogon is at her side.

 

As she slowly makes her way up the long spiral staircase that leads from the cliffside and into the castle proper, no one tries to speak to her, although she passes several servants in the halls. Once they would have smiled at her, would given her a warm greeting but now they only stare at Dany as if she is some manner of phantom, a ghost come to haunt them. She wonders idly if they’re right, perhaps she is a ghost, maybe she’d died outside the gates of King’s Landing, and all that remains of her now is a vengeful wraith, denied the peace of the grave by unfinished business. 

 

There is a grim sort of satisfaction in the thought. 

 

When Dany at long last reaches her rooms she begins stripping off her clothes immediately, and when they fall from her body she leaves them where they land, walking naked to her bath and stepping inside. Her bathing pool is always full and ready for her use, it is one of the many things she enjoys about Dragonstone, the pool itself is fed by a hot spring beneath the castle and the water within is always boiling hot. It would scald the flesh from the bones of anyone who was not a true dragon, but for Dany it is comfortable and it eases her aching body though it cannot mend her aching heart. 

 

It is enough. At least for now. 

 

She wonders briefly if perhaps another like it could be built in King’s Landing, but that is a thought for another day, because Daenerys knows that soon enough there will be far more important things than baths to be rebuilt in Kings’s Landing. 

 

At last, Dany has come to the point where she must acknowledge her own intentions, and though she isn’t sure when exactly she made the decision, it has been made regardless. She means to burn King’s Landing to the ground, and by the time she is finished with the city there will be nothing left of it but ash, glass and melted stone and depending on her mood, she might even salt the ashes afterwards.

 

As Daenerys leans her head back on the edge of her bath to look up at the delicate fresco that covers the ceiling another terrible wave of grief rushes through her. It is an incredibly beautiful work of art, delicately crafted of precious stones, and the scene it portrays is of a pair of dragons in flight, from their coloring Daenerys is near certain that they are Balerion and Vhagar, the two of them looking almost real enough to touch. 

 

Missandei had loved it from the moment she set eyes on it, and whenever the other woman had sat on the edge of the bath to help Dany with her hair she’d always taken the time to admire it, even if only for a moment. Dany had meant to surprise Missandei on her next name-day and have another like it made for her rooms in the Red Keep once they’d taken the city. 

 

It pains Daenerys that she will never have the chance to do so now, but there is a small comfort to be found in the thought that although Missandei will never have rooms in the Red Keep, neither will anyone else because when Daenerys at last turns the full measure her fury on King’s Landing there will be no Red Keep left to have rooms in.

When she shuts her eyes again, Dany can feel them burning with yet more tears and after a moment of internal struggle she simply lets them come and admits, even if only in her own mind that she’d lied before, when she told herself that she didn’t know when she had made the decision to destroy the city her ancestors had built. While Daenerys may lie to others, if she cannot be honest with herself in the privacy of her own mind then who can she be honest with? 

The painful truth is that she’d known exactly what she was going to do from the moment the word dracarys left Missandei’s lips. One word had sealed the fate of every man, woman and child in city...they just didn’t know it yet. They would soon enough, however. 

Unlike almost everyone else that Dany has ever known, Missandei of the island of Nath had never once used her closeness to Dany for her own gain. Throughout all the years that Dany had known her, her friend had never so much as once asked for any boon or favor, she had expected no promises of luxury or potential position of power. She had been Dany’s truest, most selfless companion, even Ser Jorah had made requests of Daenerys from time to time, small ones to be sure but requests none the less and when she could Dany had always been happy to grant them. Missandei alone had refused, because that was simply the sort of person she was, Missandei had loved Dany for herself and not because she was Queen Daenerys and all she had ever asked was her own friendship in return . 

With her last words, Missandei had asked one thing of Daenerys, her gentle, forgiving and dearest friend had made her first and last request and Dany meant to grant her her desire, come what may. 

 

Missandei of Nath asked for King’s Landing to burn, and so burn it would, politics and mercy be damned. Missandei of Nath would be avenged and by the time Dany is finished all the world will see what it means to truly wake the dragon. 

There is a savage anticipation beginning to bloom inside of her as she allows herself to imagine what she’s going to do to Cersei Lannister and her city. Once, Dany had believed that she knew what hatred felt like, that she’d understood what it meant to truly despise another person, she’d thought she hated the Masters, but now she sees that she was wrong because what she had felt before for them was like a candle compared to a bonfire with how she feels about Cersei Lannister. 

 

The hatred Dany feels for the false Queen is like nothing she has ever experienced before, it surges through her body like wildfire leaving only heat and desolation behind in its wake. Hate is hungry in a way Dany has never experienced before and as she allows it to fill her body like a greedy red tide she smiles.

Daenerys is a dragon, not a sheep...and it is far past time for her to act like one.


End file.
